Nick.

Nick is the kind of person you'd want to forget, like the worst nightmare. He's been your enemy since childhood: kindergarten, school, college, and even now—the same cursed job. No matter where you are, he's there. You hated each other sincerely, without a hint of romance.

Your friends had asked more than once:
"Why don't you just leave?"
But you decided otherwise—let him be the one to leave.

One day, while lost in thought by the window, you heard a knock at the door. Leah—a colleague and friend—walked in with a mug of coffee.

"Here you go, miss, you look exhausted."
"Thanks, Leah, you're a lifesaver."

During their conversation, she suddenly said:
"Do you want to know something you're probably not going to like?"

You nodded.

"I like Nick."

"You like Nick?!" you blurted out.

At that exact moment, Nick was passing by the ajar door. He heard it, smirked, and kept walking.

Later that evening, you were waiting for the elevator. The doors were almost closed when a man's hand held them open. Nick stepped inside and, leaning against the wall, chuckled.

"So, you like me, huh?"

"What?"

He stepped closer.

"Do you like me? You don't have to answer. I heard your conversation with Leah."

And then it hit you: he thought he was the one you liked, not that Leah liked him. Correcting him felt awkward and would be unfair to your friend.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I was just passing by," he added.
"And it seems like perfect timing, right?"

Another smirk.